


baby, we'll give you everything you need

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Demisexual Fitz always makes a wild appearance on all my stories, Explicit Consent, F/F, F/M, Fitz's birthday, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, LLF Comment Project, Multi, Polyamory, Triad - Freeform, birthday blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Fitz is a very generous lover, always sidelining his own pleasure for the girls'.For his thirtieth birthday, the girls try to pay back the attention.





	baby, we'll give you everything you need

So this comes from an anon request originated because of [Breakfast in Bed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11293821) _._ This happens in the same universe, but can be read on its own. I would recommend you read BiB though because it's my favourite M-rated story of mine!  

(If you want to read any of my other FSK stories, they also can be find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/meltwithyou).)

Title from [_Anything could happen_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F08aNHqL10I), because I have a small stash of FSK songs and I will drain them all for fic titles until there is nothing left.  

* * *

In a shocking twist of events, it’s not Jemma the one who starts the planning: it’s Daisy.

“What do you think we should do for Fitz’s birthday?”

“Dinner and telly and maybe some cake? You know he is not a fan of making a big deal out of it.”

Daisy scoffs, and throws herself on the couch with her full weight, despite Jemma’s disapproving eyebrows.

“Come on, Simmons, one doesn't turn thirty everyday! We _should_ make a big deal out of it. And if he doesn’t like it, his loss.”

Her head finds her way onto Jemma’s lap, and even though the look of reproach hasn’t left her face, she strokes tenderly Daisy’s cheeks.

“Yes, but _it is_ his birthday. We should at least try to fulfill his wishes at the best of our capacity.”

She takes Jemma’s hand in hers and kiss each finger in turn- such lovely hands they have, both her and Fitz; Daisy has been so blessed by them both, and she only wants them to know how much she is grateful for them at every opportunity she can get.

“Why don’t we make a list?” She can see the interest picking on Jemma’s eyes, and a surge of affection for her pervades her heart. “We can make a list of things we know he likes, and then work from there. Deal?”

Jemma leans down to kiss her, and Daisy accepts the kiss as the gift it is.

“You know you had me at ‘list’.”

* * *

(It’s not like they have many options, though.

Like, yes, they can cover _monkeys_ with a visit to the zoo, and _space_ with a stargazing night, and _food_ with a lotta determination and some recipes Daisy snatched online.

But they can not fly him to Scotland to see his mum right now; no matter how much Daisy tried to use the kicked-puppy look on Coulson, they couldn’t get him a one-on-one meeting with Tony Stark; and there is only so many times they can watch Doctor Who before it starts to get- yes even that show- quite boring.  

So when Daisy suggests _orgasms,_ Jemma pretends to be outraged, but it actually isn’t a bad idea at all.)

* * *

The thing is, Fitz is a generous lover.

Like, _very_ generous.

So generous that for a while Jemma feared he wasn't really that much into it, and that he used her pleasure as a way of hiding his disinterest. But they have talked it through- once just the two of them, and once all of them when Daisy got into the equation, and she guesses that they probably had their own private chat, too- and now she has grown to accept that he gets a real kick out of being able to pleasure them. She doesn’t know if it strokes his male ego, if it is just a corollarium of the way he is shy about his body or what, but she is not going to complain, because she definitely didn’t get the worse end of this deal.

The thing is, she knows it. Daisy knows it. Fitz knows it. _It_ is such a generalized concept that it has crept its way into their sex lives as an axiom, and Jemma is not sure they will be able to find a way around it.

And then, of course, it’s the question of whether they _should_ try to find a way around it. Like, she knows Fitz enjoys sex, but his relationship with it never has been as easy and as linear as hers or Daisy’s, and if that is what he likes and what he enjoys, who are _they_ to try to shake things up a little for the sake of a birthday present?

“Babe, don’t overthink it, okay?”

She turns around, startled, and Daisy hugs her waist.

“What, what are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Jemma, I can see your brain working at top speed from like a mile away.”

Daisy nuzzles at her neck, and Jemma closes her eyes, trying to will away the tension on her shoulders.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It doesn't work if you feel guilty and just work hard on not showing it. This is supposed to be a surprise for Fitz, but if we don’t enjoy it ourselves, you know it will be impossible to make him enjoy it.”

She bites her lip, considering.

“I’m just… concerned.”

Daisy takes her hands and leads her to sit on the couch, their hands still clasped in between them.   

“If you don’t want to do it, Jemma, I-”

“No, no it’s not that.” She rushes to assure Daisy. “I’m, ah, I’m pretty _invested_ in the idea, as far as I’m concerned.” Daisy smirks, and Jemma can’t tell if that is cause or consequence of the blush she can feel crawling onto her cheeks. “I’m just afraid he won’t like it.”

“That’s why we are going to ask him, silly. It’s not like we are planning on jumping him unaware. We all know that would be a bad idea. We are all spies, after all.” Daisy squeezes her hands, and in response Jemma gives her a trembling smile. “He is a grown man, Simmons. It’s not your job to protect him, not from us. Let him speak for himself, and voice his own desires and his own decisions.”

It shouldn’t be, but it is a hard concept to swallow, what with so many years under her belt of caring for him and being his prime source of comfort. They have always been each other’s _person,_ and they have developed a symbiotic relationship that has given them so many ups, but also a couple of downs. But they have Daisy now, and Daisy has forced them to put a lot of things on perspective: the urgent need to stop assuming and start communicating better is only one of them.

“I can try.”

Daisy smiles, and Jemma can only be grateful for having her, always so willing to try to get them to be the best they can achieve.

“And if I know anything about you, Jemma Simmons, you will succeed with flying colors.”    

* * *

“We should do this more often. For him. For each other. For ourselves.”

“Trying out skimpy underwear that costs more in dollars than the time in seconds it will last on our bodies?”

“Exactly that.”

* * *

He doesn’t want to be dramatic, but; one: he is turning thirty, so he feels he earned the right to be _a tad_ dramatic; two: Jemma and Daisy have been whispering behind his back for _days,_ and it has gotten him a little nervous.

So, yes, he is totally being dramatic, and _owning it._  

Daisy and Jemma are gossiping with each other right now, while sharing the bed with him, and really, do they think he is made of stone or what?

“Stop that, I’m awake.”

They make immediate silence, and he can _hear_ the look they are sharing.

“But how? We practically have to shove you into consciousness each morning!”

Leave it to Jemma to be accusatory because he is not following her- probably painfully detailed- plan on his own birthday.

“Well, I can’t sleep when you two are gossiping incessantly.” He grabs a hand of each one and takes them both to his chest. “Now hush and cuddle with me. I am old and I need my beauty sleep.”

* * *

His awakening number two is, well, _very_ different from the first one.

He thinks he is dreaming at first. The generalised pleasurable sensation floods him before he is aware of the focal point from where it is originating, and his general haziness doesn’t help matters. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to drag the sensations as long as possible, and automatically moves his hand to his middle-body, only to find Daisy’s head in the way.

That makes _so much sense._

“Good morning, birthday boy.”

He moans, still warm with sleep and his entire body tingling with pleasure, unable to control himself.

“Can I take that as enthusiastic consent? I would like you to say the magic word, though. You know I take Jemma’s sex handbook very seriously.”

He opens his eyes then, and Daisy is looking at him with bright eyes and a smile that somehow is even more enticing than the deft fingers that are stroking his inner thighs. He is not exactly sure what she is asking, but that doesn’t change his answer.

“Oh, my god. Yes, please, Daisy. Yes.”

* * *

It takes him awhile to ask, and he excuses it by his brain being only mid-functional while Daisy cuddles up at his side, looking satisfied like the cat who got the cream.

“Where is Jemma?”

“Making breakfast.”

“Pancakes?”

“Pancakes.”

“With chocolate chips?”

 _“And_ blueberries.”

He hugs her tight against his body, her soft hair tickling his nose.

“God, I don’t deserve you two.”

“Who cares? We _want_ you, and that is all it matters.”

Neither of them is too good at accepting that kind of matter-of-fact declaration, so even though he is grateful for it, Fitz deviates the attention.

“I will have to make sure that I repay you well, then.”

“Not a chance, Leopold. It is your birthday and we are going to spoil you, and you are going to _like_ it.”

“Damn right we are.”

They both raise their heads to watch Simmons standing at the doorframe, wearing her summer nightgown and an impressive case of bedhead, a breakfast tray on her hands. She leaves the tray on one of the night stands, and crawls onto the bed until she is hovering over both Daisy and Fitz.

“Good morning there.” She probably takes on Fitz’s flushed skin and Daisy’s swollen lips and raises one eyebrow, playing innocent. “And by the look of it, it has already started as a _very_ good morning.”

Fitz puts a hand on the back of her neck and draws her down until she is practically fully laying on top of his chest.

“Jemma.” That’s all he needs to say that she is kissing him, with enough sweetness and enough fervour to make his heart pound. “Hi.”

“Happy birthday, Fitz.” Jemma directs her attention to Daisy and pecks her on the nose and then on the lips. “And thank you.”

Fitz looks first at one and then at the other, confused.

“Why are you thanking her?”

“Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies.”

* * *

Fitz has asked for no presents- they _are_ saving up, after all-, but that doesn’t mean that they can't shower him with attention in a lot of other ways.

After the breakfast, that Jemma made with more stubbornness than actual talent- _Isn’t cooking supposed to be applied chemistry? What is this nonsense of a “pinch” of something?-,_ they take off to the zoo. They have been there multiple times, and Fitz knows more about any kind of monkey than all the signs combined, but it is nice nonetheless. They can walk slowly and hold hands in all the possible combinations and they can get ice cream and Daisy can tease them both about the risks of their “british complexion” under the august sun. They almost have forgotten how to do carefree and jovial, but they are young- even though Fitz complains aloud a couple of times about his old bones creaking, until one or both of the girls shut him up with a kiss- and they can re-learn how to do it again.

They let Fitz choose where to go for lunch and they ignore the weird looks they get from other patrons when they all squeeze together in one side of the booth. They challenge Daisy to achieve the perfect amount of bubbles on their drinks, and Jemma bores them all to death with her concerns about the nutritional value of the food.

He wouldn’t change a single thing of it, really.

He feels a little anti-climatic when they go out of the diner and the only thing he would like to do is go back to bed and cuddle, one of them on each side of his body. They are young indeed, and maybe he should want to go a little crazier than that, but that has never been his style. The only thing he needs is them, and he wants them where he can fully appreciate them.

Speaking of the devil, they are whispering animatedly back and forth, one step ahead of him, Jemma’s cheeks pink from the sun, Daisy’s arm circling her waist protectively, and he is learning to fully embrace the fact that nobody can tell him how he should be feeling, what he should want.

“Girls? Take me home.”                

* * *

They don’t do this kind of thing, not anymore, but this time Jemma can not control herself, not when Daisy is giddy with excitement and Fitz looks so peaceful and happy, and their flat is warm and smells so much like, well, _like home._ It’s not a rushed thing like it might have been during another time of their lives or another stage of their relationship, but she can not help pulling Fitz into her arms to kiss him against the wall right on the side of the door while Daisy locks it.

Daisy’s chuckle sounds distant on her ears, because she is fully focused on Fitz’s warm and soft lips on hers, his wide hands splayed on the small of her back, his body tight and real and so so hers. Maybe she is the one feeling the weight of the time passing, after all.

“Jemma.” Her name on his lips has always been one of her favourite sounds in the world. “What’s going on?

She is getting emotional, and that wasn’t the plan and it’s not even her place, so she is forever grateful for Daisy’s hands on her hips, tethering her to the now and here, not to that hypothetical reality where she has been so close to losing him, but to this moment where she has them both, alive and safe and happy, wanting to be here. She sends a shaking smile Daisy’s way, because she is sure Daisy knew exactly what was going through her head.

“I love you.” And she surges forward to kiss him again, this time teeth and fervent energy instead of lingering feeling. She places her hands over Daisy’s with more force than she intended, using the impulse to draw Daisy closer, her front fully embracing Jemma’s back. “I love you both so much.”

Fitz threads his fingers on her hair, holding her close while he licks his way inside her mouth, and Jemma moans in the middle of the kiss. Once more, Daisy’s fingers tapping against her hips are what brings her back to reality.

“Jemma? Maybe we should be ask-”

“Yeah, yeah, you are right. Fitz, it’s your birthday. What do you want?”     

He doesn’t speak, but his bright eyes and his heavy breathing do it for him. Instead, he takes one of Jemma’s hands and one of Daisy’s and leads them both to the bedroom.

* * *

It is always a bit of a challenge when they are all in the bedroom together.

She likes that. She likes that is something that takes effort, something that doesn’t come automatically to her. She likes that they have to stop every few minutes to check on each other and to re-arrange themselves for major impact. To Jemma, everything that could make this tiring and difficult actually makes it worthy of cherish and effort.

Fitz got Daisy trapped against the door of their bedroom, whispering sweet nothings against her mouth, while she has her eyes closed, lost on the sound of his voice and the feeling of his body. Jemma takes advantage of the time to take off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching them carefully.

The buttons of Fitz’s shirt are already half-undone, and his hands are all over Daisy’s abdomen, and there is something incendiary about him. Jemma considers teasing him about how he was supposed to behave like an old man, but in the end keeps it to herself. They are too pleasurable to watch to ruin the mood just to rile him up. In a matter of seconds, Daisy gets Fitz laying on the bed right next to Jemma, the flaps of his shirt open, Daisy herself sitting on his lap, and Jemma gets a zap of arousal coursing through her veins. The manhandling is something that Fitz never does to her, and that she usually enjoys when Daisy does it to her; seeing Daisy doing it to Fitz does _things_ to her.

Fitz pants on his back, and his chest going up and down rapidly is a sight in and of itself. Jemma glides her hand down his chest and Daisy grins at her, before meeting it with one of her own. Fitz looks at them, entranced, and just to up the stakes, Jemma moves them both down to his crotch, near his erection, but not quite over it. Fitz exhales loudly, and Daisy gives Jemma an approving nod.

“Girls…”

They wait him out, but he doesn’t finish the sentence, too unfocused or too worked up to keep his concentration. Instead, his hand tugs on Daisy’s blouse, until she graciously takes it off, and then he traverses the edge of her bra with his fingertip, awed. Jemma can not blame him: the red lace truly looks amazing hugging her boobs.

“Do you want to, um, do you want to-?”

He stumbles through the words, and Jemma feels a surge of affection so strong that it’s lucky that she is already laying down. Usually, they would turn the question back on him, ask him what _he_ wants, because he asks for so little on his own, but they all know the answer to that question: he is big on service, and he always wants to take care of them before even start thinking about his own pleasure. But this is not what they have in store for this day, and that’s why Daisy leads the answer in a different direction than usual.

“We would like to give you your present, Dr. Fitz.”

He furrows his brow, confused but not enough to withdraw his hand from Daisy’s chest. Jemma almost feels like snickering.

“I told you that-”

“We know.” Jemma interrupts. “That’s why we angled for the, ah, more intangible kind of present.”

Daisy snorts.

“As much as you can call ‘orgasms’ intangible.”

Fitz gapes at them, but his cock twitches right next to their hands, and Jemma calls that a win.  

“No, but, you, you already, ah, today.”

He grimaces at his own words, sheepish, and Jemma can not resist the urge to lean closer to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“One for each decade of life feels appropriate, don’t you think? We wanted to give you a head start because you are an old man, after all.”

Jemma waits a beat, enough to give him time to process.

“As long as you want to, of course.” He looks unsure, his eyes moving from Daisy to Jemma. “We appreciate very much how hard you work for our pleasure, pun intended. But we want you to know that we also enjoy doing the same for you. And it _is_ your birthday.”

He swallows, hard, and looks at her intently while his thumb strokes Daisy’s lower lip.

“Why don’t you show me what you had in mind?”

* * *

She would like to say that after that things go seamlessly but, of course, they go anything but. Maybe it’s the nerves or performative pressure or whatnot, but it’s obvious almost immediately that her and Jemma are not used to putting Fitz in the spotlight. After the third clashing of elbows against parts that are not supposed to be elbowed, and the fifth mumbled apology, Daisy climbs down from Fitz’s lap and calls them to attention with her hands in the universal "time out" gesture.

“Okay, Jemma, come here.” Jemma looks at her perplexed, but since Daisy doesn’t move back to the bed, she gets up and moves next to her diligently. Daisy places a hand on her waist and another one in the nape of her neck, and leans to kiss the tension out of her.

It’s a multipurpose kiss, really. Because they both need to chill the fuck out, and Jemma usually works best with a tangible reminder under her hands and her lips. Because even though they both want to make this about him, it doesn’t harm to rekindle the lovely bond they share. Only when Jemma sighs inside the kiss, Daisy breaks it, and turns around to look at Fitz, still holding Jemma in her arms.  

“Enjoying the show, lover boy?”

Fitz is still on the bed, resting on his elbows, his eyes bright.

“Yeah.” An exhale. “What, no, I mean, I’d never-”

“Calm down.” Daisy assures him while Jemma moves closer to this time be the one sitting on his lap. “You are not objectifying our relationship under the rules of the heteronormative male gaze, _we know.”_ She smiles when Jemma chirps in with _Let’s not forget that nobody is heterosexual here either._ “We turn you on because you love us and you want us to be happy. And because, let’s be honest, we are hot as hell.”   

Jemma laughs then, tilting her head up, and Fitz’s eyes follow the line of her neck, hypnotized; Daisy spots there an opportunity good as any.

“Tell him, Simmons.” It’s not much her style, being commanding in the bedroom- Jemma usually takes care of that-, but Jemma looks at her, all bright-eyed, and Daisy knows she did the right thing.

“Tell him what?”

“How much he also turns _us_ on.”

Fitz groans, and Jemma surges forward to kiss him, lips colliding and hungry tongues. Daisy sits down next to them and places a hand on Jemma’s hip.

“Oh, Fitz, you have no idea.” They break apart but without breaking eye-contact. “This whole week, it have been driving me insane, thinking about this, thinking about you, all the time. I could barely function.”

Fitz pants, a little unsure.

“It’s that so?”

Jemma drops to her knees, and Daisy takes that as her sign to start lavishing his neck with kisses. Simmons nods while taking Fitz’s jeans off.

“You know I suck at lying.”

Daisy snorts.

“And I’m pretty sure she _sucks_ at other things too.”

* * *

If this is how turning thirty feels like, he can live with it.

Jemma is nipping at his inner thighs while his body is still overwhelmed with aftershocks, and he would like to reciprocate the kisses that Daisy is leaving all over his face, but apparently his brain-muscles connection has been severed.   

And the girls are not even undressed yet.

“Something doesn’t feel very fair here.”

“We told you-”

“-since it’s your birthday-”

“-let us enjoy the pleasure of-”

“- aren’t Birthday Blowjobs a _thing-_?”

“-sex is not a trade-”

“-making you feel good.”

“Okay, okay, time up.” His smile is so big it hurts, but he loves when Daisy and Jemma do that _thing_ that has been only his and Jemma’s for so long. “I was only trying to get you two undressed. I mean, since I saw that very nice thing Daisy is wearing, I can only think about what else you two can be hiding.”

He winks, and he knows he probably looks ridiculous, but he so doesn’t care. The girls exchange a look and then they both jump to their feet to discard their clothes until they are both down to their underwear. Daisy does it quickly and with precision, not a movement more than necessary, like a soldier. Jemma tries to make it a bit more enticing, until the zipper of her trousers get stuck and she ends up ripping them off while swearing.   

God, he loves them both so much.

And also, _fuck,_ they color-coordinated, Daisy is wearing red and Jemma is wearing blue, how is he supposed to be immune against that? They say older men need a longer time to get going again, but apparently his dick hasn’t gotten the memo about their age yet. He can also live with that.

“Come here.” His voice sounds hoarse, and the girls lay down next to him, one on each side, holding hands across his chest. How did he manage to get this lucky?

Jemma’s mouth still has a mixture of spit and come on the corner, and he wipes it off with his thumb. Their bodies are warm and their skin feel silky-soft against his. He taps with his other hand on his cheek until Jemma gets it and kisses him there. He turns his head then until he is kissing Daisy, and moves back and forth between them until everything is a mess of breathings and tongues and whispered words. He sneaks his arms under their bodies until he is grabbing both their butts, feeling bold and saucy. Jemma yelps, and Daisy arches an eyebrow at him.

“Feeling cheeky, aren’t we, Dr. Fitz?”

He moves his hands upwards, tracing their spines until he finds the straps of their bras and them down again until the seam of their knickers. The contrast between skin and fabric gives him a thrill of sensation.

“You did say that I can enjoy myself because it’s my birthday.”

“We also said that we still owe you something.”

“Oh, no, you don’t-”

Daisy cuts him off with a kiss, her tongue insistent against his teeth, Jemma’s fingers drawing nonsense against his pelvic bone.

“Said the word and we will stop. Do you want to stop, Fitz?”

They have a plan, and really, who is he to oppose that plan when they are making him melt like ice-cream under their ministrations?

“Please, don’t stop.”

Daisy bops his nose before her hand reunites with Jemma’s over his erection.

“Thought so.”

They do not speak after all, which is on itself a strange occurrence, but it’s hard- _ahem-_ to find something to say when Fitz holds them tight against his body, both their hands jerking him off, lips kissing every inch of skin within reach, tongues tasting sweat and arousal. He shouldn’t be this overwhelmed this quickly, but how can he not, when they managed to surround him completely, to make everything in the world he can dream about them and them and them?

He pants against Jemma’s mouth, his fingers digging in Daisy’s muscles, and he unravels all over their fists, and he feels like a seventeen years old.

(Except he wasn’t having sex this good at seventeen years old. Or just plain sex, period.)

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

The girls laugh, and he would like to absorb them under his skin, make them all a part of a single unit, but it’s good that he can’t, because he would miss the sight of them high-fiving over just giving him a (mindblowing, mind you) orgasm.

“On the other hand, I feel like if I get hard again I might die.”

“Good thing then I gave you a head start early on, so we don’t have to do the third now.” Daisy beams at him, at the same time that Jemma teases: “Good thing we can take care of each other.”

He could do, really, with watching them enjoying each other, or even with not watching and just knowing. What he can not do is letting Jemma get away with _that_ tone, so he rolls over her until he is pinning her down to the bed.   

“Who said that I need to be hard to take care of you?” He smiles at Daisy, and makes a gesture with his head for her to get closer, while he holds Jemma’s hands down with his. “Your birthday is coming up, Jemma. You better start getting used to this.”   

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so we learned here that 1) I suck at giving Fitz orgasms; 2) I shy away from writing penetrative sex when the three of them are involved. (You know what you need to prompt me people!)
> 
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * This author replies to comments.
> 



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